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“Here you go, happy birthday, Ash!” Delia said as she handed her son a neatly wrapped box.
The boy had barely started school and he already knew he wanted to become a pokemon trainer. But not just any trainer, Ash would remind anyone who would listen, he would be the very best, a Pokemon Master! Delia didn’t quite understand, but she wouldn’t have to worry about her son’s ambition for a few years yet.
For now, all he wanted was his very own pokemon. Ash had begged and begged just for a pet growlithe, and as much as Delia wants to grant his wish, the cost of upkeep for a pokemon was more than they could spare right now. (And the less said about the trouble Ash would get into with his own pokemon, the better.)
So Delia came to a solution and hoped that it might satisfy her boy’s pokemon craze for the time being. Though, she really shouldn’t have worried.
Ash tears into the paper excitedly, lifting the lid of the box. “Oh wow, Mom, it’s so cute!” Ash lifts the plush toy from the box reverently, eyes filling with stars. In his hands sat a life size pikachu plush, now staring blankly at its new owner. Ash runs his hands over the bright yellow velvet, in awe of its softness.
Delia watches in surprise at his reaction, eventually asking, “Do you like it, Ash?”
Ash grins up at her, hugging his new toy tightly, “I love it! My very own pokemon!” Ash stands and begins to twirl in his excitement, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Delia breathes a sigh of relief and giggles at her son’s antics. Though, little did they know that the toy in question soaked in the warmth of the scene as well.
From then on, the plush pikachu went everywhere with Ash, from playing in the garden, to sitting at the dinner table, to bed every night. (Even to school once, though he was quickly found out, and now pikachu has to wait for Ash at home.)
They went on many adventures together, playing outside. And though Ash could be rough, throwing the plush around when he was “battling”, he always lovingly gathered the pikachu in his arms to take him back into the house. Of course, Pikachu doesn’t mind the rough play, he would follow his boy to the ends of the Earth if he had any choice in the matter.
“Really, Ash, you shouldn’t get this toy so dirty if you insist on sleeping with it.” Delia scolds as she scrubs at the pikachu in the sink. Ash watches nearby, sleepy but intent on waiting for the plush to be done.
“You can’t be worrying about dirt when you’re on an adventure, Mom!” Ash exclaims, still fighting to stay awake. Delia sighs, making a note to check the pikachu for dirt long before bedtime in the future.
So Pikachu doesn’t mind the dirt, or the baths, or even the suffocating nightly snuggles. But Ash is a little boy, even for all his gentle care for the plush, he’s easily distracted, especially by food.
“Ash! Dinner time!” Delia calls from the back porch.
“Coming!” Ash yells, jumping up and all but sprinting for the door. Pikachu watches him go from his position on the grass, lying on his side. They had been playing near the edge of the forest, the farthest Ash’s mother would let them. He isn’t worried about being left behind, Ash always comes back.
What does worry Pikachu is the rustling of bushes behind him. He can’t turn his head to look, so the plush waits in dreadful suspense until whatever it is comes around to where he can see it. And to his surprise, that’s exactly what it does. Two real, live pokemon have come to look at him.
Now, Pikachu knows what pokemon are, he had watched too many televised battles with Ash not to know. He knows they move with power and agility. He knows that he isn’t one.
And yet, right in front of him were two living, breathing pokemon that looked a bit too much like him to be a coincidence. They had bright yellow fur, red cheeks, and sharp, angled tails just like him. Not like him, they moved with ease and grace, stepping lightly towards him and sniffing curiously.
“You smell like a human, are you a trainer’s pokemon?” one of them spoke, starting to get closer. Pikachu simply stares ahead, unable to respond.
“Do you want to play with us?” cut in the other one, hopping excitedly. And boy, wouldn’t Pikachu love to do just that, but he had never played without Ash.
The first pokemon closes the remaining distance to rub its cheek with Pikachu’s, sparking a little, before jumping back quickly.
“He doesn’t have any electricity, and he hasn’t even blinked. It’s not a real pokemon. Just a human toy,” the pokemon said, disappointed. The two bounded off, back into the forest.
That’s a bit rude, thought Pikachu. Ash has no problem playing with me. Pikachu laid there, thinking of the pokemon that looked so much like him. He knows what pokemon are, and that he isn’t one. But he wonders now, could he be one? Could he become a real pokemon and help Ash with the journey he so desperately wants to go on?
Pikachu lingers on that line of thought while the sky grows darker and, finally, the boy in question comes running to him. Ash kneels down to gently pick up the plush, hugging it to his chest.
“I’m so sorry I left you out here, Pikachu!” Ash exclaims, close to tears. He tightens his grip, stands, and turns to walk back to the house. Ash runs a hand over the soft yellow velvet as he walks.
“I’m surprised you left it anywhere, given how inseparable you are from that toy,” Delia says as Ash comes inside, closing the door behind him. Ash stops just inside, staring at the floor, still dangerously tearful.
“It’s just, sometimes I forget that he can’t get up and follow me,” Ash mumbles, face half buried in the yellow plush. Delia smiles at him fondly. Her sweet boy has such an imagination.
“Well, you’ve got him back now, so why don’t we start getting ready for bed, hmm?” Delia says, rubbing a comforting hand on his back. Ash nods and doesn’t fight her, for once, during the bedtime routine.
Later that night, as Pikachu lay half buried under his boy, he thinks of the pokemon he met. He thinks of how they looked just like him, how gracefully they moved. He thinks of them with some jealousy, but most of all, hope. Ash shifts in his sleep, his breath warm on Pikachu’s head. Most of all, Pikachu just wants to stay by Ash’s side, no matter what that means for him. If that means being a plush doll, he would stay this way forever. But if Ash wants a journey, how could a plush doll help him? Pikachu isn’t even allowed to go with him to school.
Ash shifts again, squishing Pikachu ever closer to himself. Ash’s journey is still a long way off, Pikachu reminds himself. He just needs to be there for Ash right now. Who needs to be a real pokemon when a plush works just fine?
The next few years, Pikachu remained by Ash’s side through everything (except school) and Ash loved and played with him just as much as the day he got the toy. Together, they played and explored, watched league battles, and snuggled every night. Pikachu celebrated the snow days and comforted Ash through the subsequent colds. He was there for the scrapes and bruises, the nightmares and the dreams.
And through all the love and play, Pikachu got worn down. His once bright yellow velvet and red cheeks have long since faded. One of his ears is barely hanging on, his tail droops, and Delia has had to glue one of his eyes back on a few times. Not that Ash cares about any of that, of course.
Delia only tried to ask once, if he wanted a new pokemon plush.
“What would I want a new one for? I already have Pikachu, Mom.” Ash says, confused expression on his face.
“I just mean that it’s getting old and doesn’t look all that nice anymore,” Delia said, as she stitches up a hole leaking stuffing.
“You can’t just replace a pokemon, Mom, he’s my partner! And anyways, battle pokemon can’t be expected to look nice all the time, that’s what showcases are for,” Ash said, pouting.
Delia sighs and hands the beloved toy back to her son, “I suppose that makes sense.”
So on and on went time, a boy and his worn plush Pikachu. But as Ash grew up, eventually his tenth birthday came around. And with it, Ash was soon to leave on his journey. Pikachu didn’t want to think about that now, though. Right now, Ash was opening his birthday gifts.
“Oh, wow, a new backpack! Thanks, Mom!” Ash examines the bag closely, noting all the pockets.
“It’s a traveling backpack, Ash, I thought it might work better than your school backpack.” Delia says.
“Cool! It even has special pockets for pokeballs!” Pikachu watches from his place on the coffee table. He’d been laid there next to a bowl of popcorn in preparation to watch some televised battles after presents have been opened. Pikachu was happy for Ash getting ever closer to his dream, of course he was, though he couldn’t help dreading the day he would leave the plush behind.
And once he left, who knows when he would come back? Pikachu would be missing months of growth and new friends and playing. By the time Ash did come back, he could be a completely different boy, and Pikachu wouldn’t know what happened on that journey.
“Now who’s ready to watch some battles?“ Delia says, picking up the remote. Ash finally turns from his presents and picks up Pikachu to hug under his chin.
“We are!” Ash exclaims, pumping his fist in the air in excitement. Pikachu snuggles in and resolves to enjoy the time he has left with his boy.
“I wish I could take you with, Pikachu,” Ash says, clutching the plush in the dark room. It’s the night before he leaves on his journey, and though he had finally settled down, Ash was far from asleep. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.
“I know you can’t really battle, and bringing my favorite plush toy isn’t exactly ‘packing light’. Real pokemon trainers don’t do that,” Ash says, pouting a bit. He holds Pikachu at arms length above him. “I just want to travel with you and really have you as my partner. You’ve been with me for so long that I can’t imagine not seeing you every day.” Ash hugs the plush back to his chest. “I guess it’s just a part of leaving home, I won’t see mom every day either,” Ash says, starting to sniffle. “But this is my dream! So I’ve gotta be a big boy and look forward to the new adventure instead of looking back!”
Ash rolls to his side, snuggling in. “Thank you for being with me as long as you have, Pikachu, I’ll tell you all about my journey when I come back.” With that, he fell asleep, but Pikachu was still awake. If he were any more alive, he could have cried. It made him feel a bit better that Ash was having the same problem letting go. If he could have reassured his boy, he would, but as it stands, he’s just a plush pikachu.
Pikachu wakes to the early morning sun and the alarm clock Ash is supposed to wake to. At some point in the night, the plush had apparently been pushed onto the floor, which is nothing new. Pikachu watches helplessly as the alarm clock eventually stops beeping, but Ash keeps on sleeping. This is nothing new either, as the boy had overslept many a school day, but today is much more important.
Pikachu had never wished more than this moment to be a real pokemon. He was usually comforted by still being able to support Ash, but no plush could stop a boy from oversleeping. Pikachu tries harder than ever before to roll over, get up, move, do something! All he can do is lay there, a limp plush doll, a mere replica of a real pokemon.
But while Pikachu can’t move, he can wish. He wishes with all his might to any legendary that might be listening, just to be able to help his boy. He wishes and he keeps wishing until suddenly, he begins to feel warm.
Pikachu had often felt warm, hugged by Ash or left in the sun, but this is different. He feels warm from the inside, like having a body that holds its own soul. The warmth starts at his core and spreads out as he begins to feel more, the hard floor, the sunlight through the windows, like he’s feeling for the first time.
As the warmth finishes its migration but does not leave, Pikachu tests his movement. He twitches his tail, his ear, flexes his paw. Then slowly, he pushes himself off the floor to sit up on his own for the very first time. Next, he tests his voice, “Pi…ka? Pika!” Ash snores loudly, reminding the newly real pokemon of his goal.
Pikachu jumps up to Ash’s bed, tries shaking him gently with his paws. Of course, this does nothing. Next, he tries hitting Ash with his tail progressively harder, which also seems to have no effect. Pikachu pats his own cheeks experimentally, feeling the power he’s always been curious to use. He breathes deeply, and lets out a mighty, “CHUUU!”
“WHAAAAAA,” Ash shouts, finally, finally waking up. He sits up, rubbing his eyes and taking in the unfamiliar pokemon before him. “A pikachu? How did you get in here, little guy? Are you lost?” Ash slowly lifts his hand toward the pikachu to let it sniff, but it gently headbutts right into his hand for pets.
“Woah, you’re pretty friendly for a wild pokemon, do you have a trainer?” Ash mutters. The pikachu backs away from his hand and stares into his eyes. It seems…vaguely familiar? There was such warmth and knowingness in his expression, like he was waiting for Ash to get a joke.
On instinct, Ash looks around for where his plush had landed during the night. Or he tried to, his favorite plush was nowhere in sight. Ash turns back to the pokemon, a question in his face, “Pikachu? Wait, am I dreaming?” Pikachu can’t take it anymore, he leaps at Ash’s chest, nuzzling and licking his chin.
Ash giggles, “Pikachu, stop! That tickles!” Ash gets a hold of the pokemon and holds him out in front of him. “I can’t believe it! Pikachu, you can come with me now!”
“Pika pika!” Pikachu says, and starts wriggling out of Ash’s grip. He lands on the bed and points at Ash’s alarm clock with his tail. “Pi-ka-chu!” Ash looks where the pokemon is pointing and his eyes bug out.
“AAH, I’m late! Pikachu, we’ve gotta get down to Professor Oak’s lab and get registered!” Ash shouts, jumping out of bed and pulling out clothes. Pikachu folds his arms smugly. This is going to be a long journey.